


All Is Fair In Love and War

by Darkwhisperings



Series: ProwlxJazz Anniversary 2016 [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Darkwhisperings attempts to write fluffy scenes, Dubious consent if you squint, Enemies to Lovers, Jazz is a little shit, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Prowl isn't quite as put together as everyone thinks, Prowl x Jazz anniversary challenge 2016, Purple Prose, Sarcasm, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slash, Transformers with potty mouths, questionable morals, slightly OOC, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwhisperings/pseuds/Darkwhisperings
Summary: Jazz and Prowl start out as mortal enemies, but neither will readily admit that this adversity lead to a strange undeniable attraction.  Or even, dare they say it, love?  In other words, the time Prowl and Jazz went from bitterly detesting the other to exchanging sweet nothings through nine dirty tricks.   All is fair in love and war, right baby?





	1. Subterfuge

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [anniversarychallenge16](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/anniversarychallenge16) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  "Nine dirty tricks Jazz or Prowl pulled on either the Decepticons or each other"
> 
> A/N: Brought to you by Spotify’s trapaholics playlist. And gin. Please play nice, I’m new at this creative writing thing…but I love criticism with good intentions. Also, I just realized the fluffy writing thing doesn’t really work out for me. That must say something about me…huh.
> 
> Also, this in isn't betaed. Which means I'll probably go back and do that later. I just did the thing where I claim a prompt and put it off until the last moment (and also move to a different city). 
> 
> Meant to be read as a series of one shots, in chronological order.
> 
> Song inspiration: Dynamite - Amaranthe  
> Enjoy!

**Subterfuge - "deciet used in order to achieve ones goals"**

The early joors of the morning found Prowl sitting at his desk, only by the light of a single lamp. Prowl scowled at the offensive object, which was innocently aimed as if to highlight the multiple data disks scattered across its surface. Such was a normal situation for the Praxian to find himself in at this time of night; all was as usual in his world. Fluttering his doorwings in agitation, Prowl snatched the closest data disk with a little too much vigour. Nights like these were his solitude. It was a time where he didn’t have to plaster the mask of structure and superiority on his faceplates, nor did he have to remain overly composed. These were nights where he could be a simple mech, with normal problems like being overworked, under rested, and just fragged off with the entire planet.

**_Beep._ **

Prowl jerked his helm up towards the screen of his computer terminal. Who the frag was sending him a message at this Primus-forsaken hour? One click identified the perpetrator.

Jazz. 

Of course it was him; the head of black ops seemed to have made it his personal mission to make the tacticians life living hell. Simply opening the message on his terminal had the tactician cursing. Well, at least he knew why the shady saboteur had conveniently waited to submit this particular report. Prowl slapped the data pad back onto the desktop in frustration; he shouldn’t have put it past the saboteur to go off on an unrequited mission, but it still irritated him to no end. 

“Ahem”. 

For the second time that night cycle, the tactician jerked in surprise, his gaze landing on a particularly smug saboteur leaning on his door frame, “Aye dere bot, what did that disk ever do to you?”

“Did your creators never teach you to _knock_?” Prowl snapped, “If _some_ bots simply followed protocol instead of repeatedly disregarding it, I would have no reason to… lose my temper.” 

“See yah got my mission report.”

Prowl narrowed his optics and slowly rose from his chair, his doorwings spread out behind him. “I did. What in Primus’ name did you think you were doing, infiltrating a Decepticon base on such short notice, with no command approval _or_ back up? What happened if you were caught? You have Autobot intelligence that would severely cripple the faction if reveled!”

Jazz remained silent for a moment, brushing an imaginary piece of dust off of his chest plate before meeting the tactician’s icy glare. “Nice to see yah in one piece Jazz, I was worried more about yer well-being than some fraggin’ intel. Oh, and thanks fer the vote of confidence der, mech.” 

Prowl’s doorwings flared at the mocking undertone, his palms making contact with the desktop with a sharp **slap**. “You deliberately left base without permission and put this faction in danger. And _then_ you decided to taunt me by submitting the report _after_ you arrived back on base”. 

Jazz grinned, a sharp unsettling thing, before reaching into his subspace to revel a data disk. “Yeh, and I came back wit the intel yah’ve been whining about. And maybe I jus’ like watchin’ yah lose yer cool.” 

“You mean to say, that in the span of less than eight joors, you infiltrated Darkmount, hacked into their computer systems, and escaped with not even a scratch-“ the tactician cut himself off, rubbing his face in exasperation, “ You are Third in Command of this faction, Jazz. You cannot just go off on an ill-planned mission on a whim!”

“Oh but I’m the one that produces results. As long as I’ve got something to say fer it, what’s wrong wit breaking yer precious rules every now and then?” With all his sharp dangerous curves and swaying hips, the saboteur approached the desk, slowly waving the disk in front of Prowl’s face. He intently watched the Praxian’s features, as he tracked the desired item with his optics. Prowl seemed to catch himself, forcing his gaze away from illicit object. Instead he fixated on the Polyhexian’s own and for one long encumbered moment, the two simply stared, as if looking away meant losing this imaginary battle. 

Prowl broke first.

“But you cannot-frag, Jazz!” He sputtered with a shake of his head, “Do not do it again. If I catch you, you will spend the next few orns in the brig with the twins, and I’ll send your subordinates on intel-gathering missions. I only hope they have not taken too much of your bad influence to spark.” He reached up to snatch the disk away, only to have Jazz pull it out of his reach.

“And there we have a small problem. Thing is, you would never catch me, mech. Yah only see what I want yah to see.” There was that sing-song lit that danced in the saboteur's voice that irritated him so much. He barely refrained himself from snatching the disk out of Jazz’ offered hand when it was finally offered to him again.

“I can sure as pit try,” Prowl huffed indignantly, adding the pad to the growing pile on his disorderly desk. Jazz watched this action intently, before spinning on his peds with a graceful flourish.

“My my Prowl. Yer desk is a bit of a mess. I guess our precious tactician ain’t so perfect behind closed doors. ” With a wink, the mech danced silently out the door.

Prowl eyed the innocent datapad. It was intel he desperately needed to plan his next campaign. Although it was obtained through unsanctioned means, and he could not simply ignore it. The action made him a hypocrite, which precisely what Jazz wanted to see, but he had no other choice. Sitting down heavily in his chair, careful to avoid pinching his doorwings, he grabbed the pad and flicked the screen on.

_It’s a mission within a mission within a mission! Want that intel so much? Come get it._

_\- Your friendly neighbourhood saboteur <3 _

Apparently, Jazz also wanted the tactician to chase after him like some love struck turbofox.

Prowl would never readily admit that the data disk that went crashing into the wall was his doing. 

_Come on believe me,_  
_You can’t deny_  
_From the blaze in my eyes_  
_I am hypnotized and_  
_I can achieve it_  
_I will arise_  
_Like fire in the sky_  
_I am dynamite_


	2. Astriction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Prowl decides Jazz needs a taste of his own antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Song inspiration is Diamond Hard - Kerli

**Astriction - “the act of binding or the state of being bound”**

Jazz slouched further into the command chair, his face smooshed uncomfortably into the palm of his hand. He had a love-hate relationship with the dark cycle shift. On the plus side, night cycle rarely ever saw any suspicious activity, which meant shift note annotation was relatively straightforward. This allowed more time spent pondering ways to upset Prowl’s perfect orderly existence.

On the other hand, it gave him endless time to consider how much he had come to _savour_ fragging off the tactician. Not only for his own personal amusement, no. He liked to watch the tactician’s precious stoic face screw up with frustration. Not to mention the way his doorwings fluttered with just barely repressed anger. He wondered if they would do that if some bot were to stroke their hinges in just the right place-

…and **that** train of processing needed to stop right there, thank you very much. The shift from utterly detesting the mech to finding his nuances desirable was downright unnerving. And the dullness of the graveyard shift gave him copious amounts of time to mull over this disturbing fact.

It had started out innocently enough. Prowl seemed to have a permanent fixture of epic proportions jammed right up his aft. Apparently, he had made it his own personal mission to frag off every single mech under his command by citing his stupid fragging rules over, and over, and over…

 _Blah blah blah._

Which made him the most obvious target for Jazz’…special sort of attentions. Obviously.

Attentions such as knocking over a convenient pile of data disks, by accident of course, and _unintentionally_ stepping on them. Whoops. And the time he had replaced the acid pellets in the tactician’s rifle with pink glitter bombs before he went to target practice with the new recruits; the look on the Praxian’s face was _priceless_. But his personal favourite was the time he sent Prowl a ‘mission report’ that was actually a cleverly disguised virus designed to overwhelm the tacticians computer terminal with the raunchiest human porn he could find. He made sure to save the video of the SIC cursing and breaking his terminal in an attempt to terminate the vulgar noises. And he might have shared the file with the twins…and Ratchet. And probably Smokescreen.

Jazz chuckled to himself, lazily spinning himself around in the command chair. What could he say; Jazz had a soft spot for watching Prowl lose his _precious_ control. 

However, what was devised as means to get back at the tactician for being a colossal aft had morphed into something else entirely. While he has started out adding his own personal brand of chaos to Prowl’s existence for the simple amusement, somewhere along the journey it had mutated into a strange sort of complicated desire. Obsessed. That was the only way to describe it. He had become so utterly bound by Prowl’s reactions that he couldn’t help himself. He chewed on his bottom lip as he considered this fact, compulsorily spinning himself even faster in the chair.

Which is how Prowl found him. 

Jazz slammed his pedes to the deck, stopping the chair mid spin as the doors to the bridge opened with a _swoosh_. Speak of Unicron’s spawn.

“Jazz.”

“An’ good mornin’ to yah too! How was yer recharge cycle? Mine was fan-fraggin’-tastic, thank yah fer askin’! Yer lookin’ fine this morning, did you change yer polish?”

Prowl raised an optic ridge, staring blankly at the saboteur for a long moment. The corner of his lip twitched up in amusement, before the mech approached the command console to review the reports from the night cycle.

Wait.

Did Prowl just smirk? He usually had to deploy much more than a simple snarky comment to frazzle the mech. On top of that, the mech was usually frustrated by his antics, never amused. He was definitely missing something.

Eyeing the Praxian suspiciously, Jazz rose from the chair with an overly exaggerated stretch. “Well, dark cycle was really borin’. Not a peep from the ‘Cons. I guess that’s my cue to head to the berth-“

“Hold up Jazz. Did you not check the updated duty roster?”

“The frag you talkin’ ‘bout? I checked a groon ago and nothin’ had changed. I assume yer still here to relieve me?”

Prowl glanced at him out of the corner of his optics as he scrolled through the terminal, “Well, since you had such an abysmal shift, I thought you would appreciate more exciting one. Thus, there is an updated duty roster.”

Jazz sputtered, quickly pulling up the roster. Sure enough, the new schedule had him working a back to back night and light cycle. On top of that, the schedule was only edited klicks earlier. Slagger. 

“You see, being the Second in Command of the entire army, I hardly get any time off. And only moments ago, I decided that I would like to take this morning off.” Prowl keyed the console off and leaned into the Polyhexian’s personal space, forcing the stunned mech to sit back heavily in his seat. “Unfortunately, you were the only other shift commander available. I’m truly sorry for the inconvenience, Jazz. I only came to ensure that you did not burn my bridge down while I was in recharge.”

Accosted. Played at his _own_ game. Jazz simply stared at the attractive features of the mech, who had somehow ventured so far into his personal space that he could feel his steady ventilations on his faceplates. 

And then, Prowl did something that Jazz though he would never see in his existence. The mech _grinned_. Not just a barely there grin. It was a full-blow, face splitting **grin**.

“Have a wonderful light cycle, Jazz.” 

He most definitely watched Prowl’s aft as he turned on his pede and stalked out of the room.

Jazz slouched back into his chair as gamma shift exited the bridge as they were replaced by their alpha shift counter parts. A mech after his spark. Well played, _afthead_.

  
_My skin is soft like velvet but my nails are razor sharp_  
_My scent is sweet like honey but I am diamond hard_  
_My ways they cut through plastic, rust free my golden heart_  
_This shit is so bombastic, yeah I am diamond hard_  



	3. Provoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spinning ever so slowly out of control...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I seem to write best at ungodly hours in the morning. Enjoy! Song inspiration is Drop Dead Cynical - Amaranthe

**Provoke – “to deliberately incite someone to do or feel something”**

The large compound doors swung closed behind Prowl and the twins as they were admitted to the base after patrol.

“You deliberately spun your tires in that mud puddle, just so you could spray that _disgusting_ slag all over my fresh paint job!”

“Nuh uh.”

“Aft! You did too!”

“Now Sunny, why would you’re sweet and innocent twin do such _terrible_ thing?”

“Because I’ve come to think that you actually get off on annoying the slag out of everyone in your life.”

“Hey! Shut up, Sunshine!”

“Don’t call me that!” Sunstreaker hissed, punching Sideswipe in the shoulder plating before stalking into the base. Sideswipe followed, and the muffled sounds of an escalating argument following them down the corridor.

Prowl exhaled noisily, rocking back and forth on his suspension before transforming into root mode. He was relieved that his patrol with the twins had come to its conclusion. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked patrol; he actually enjoyed the break from working in his office. He just loathed having to accompany the twins because of their illogical and often _excessively_ loud antics. Now that his patrol route was complete, he could go back to his office and finish the day’s reports, and possibly grab a cube and maybe even an early recharge-

“Mech.”

Oh slag. 

Obviously having been waiting for Prowl’s return, Jazz nonchalantly leaned on the wall just outside of the base, his arms crossed over his chest plates. 

His tactical computer supplied that there was a 98% probability that this _visit_ had something to do with the stunt he had pulled on the bridge the cycle prior. Realistically, Prowl knew he shouldn’t have stooped to Jazz’ level. Not only for the fact that making the saboteur pull a double shift endangered the faction simply by virtue of an exhausted commander, he knew that pulling the wool over Jazz’ eyes would only result in the mech’s retaliation. 

Hence the reason for what seemed to be a one-mech welcoming party.

“Hello, Jazz. What can I assist you with this evening?” Prowl droned, eyeing the saboteur before brushing past him and entering the base. 

“I don’ get yah, mech.”

Without even a side glance, Prowl pulled his personal data pad out of his subspace for something to busy himself with. “You do not need to ‘get me’.”

“I jus’ don’t understand why yer such a hard aft.” He conveniently left the part about his strange fascination with the mech out. 

Prowl stopped so suddenly that the trailing Polyhexian almost walked directly into him. “Since we’re on the subject, you know what I don’t get? I don’t get why you seem to have made it your personal mission to be a particularly annoying thorn in my side. I also don’t get why you think it is alright to jump straight into things without thinking. Need I remind you of one such impulsive mission?”

He heard Jazz snicker. 

“While I’ll admit it wasn’t my best trick, even yah have to admit that my endgame was seriously solid.”

“I’ve had just about enough, Jazz!” Prowl shouted. He spun around to face the slightly taller mech, jabbing him in the chest plates with a single finger.

The only warning Prowl had was a sharp flash of Jazz’ visor, before he slammed the tactician into the wall. “Are yah sure about that mech? You sound a tad hypocritical, since you ‘ave been bitin’ back jus’ as hard!” He snarled, forcing himself way too far into Prowl’s personal space than was professional. 

“I have not!” A lie, and Prowl knew it as soon as the sentence escaped his mouth. He back peddled, “You..you provoked me! Deliberately, for what I can guess was for only your own private amusement? Or are you trying to make me look incapable in front of the crew-”

“Yer attractive when yah lose control.” Jazz deadpanned.

“W-what?” Prowl stammered.

“Shut up.” Jazz uttered, gazing into the others optics with a frightening intensity. The mech stared back, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to find the right words, but couldn’t. Jazz slowly raised a hand, tracing the mech’s defined jaw line with his knuckles before cupping his cheek. He heard the tactician’s vents hitch and sputter as he leaned in closer. He stopped, his lips just a breath away from Prowl’s, the moment seeming to stretch on into passionate infinity. 

Prowl felt frozen in time and place, unable to move or think. He knew he should push Jazz away, but having the mech’s heavy field intertwined with his own was far too hypnotizing. Instead, without fully considering the consequences, he let his optics flicker out and angled his face just so that their lips could finally meet…

…just as Jazz jerked back.

Prowl abruptly lurched back into a logical frame of mind, breaking the loaded moment. Did Jazz just try to kiss him? Or rather, did he _actually_ entertain the thought of engaging in such an activity with the bane of his existence? His frame was buzzing with excitement, and as the saboteur tried to step back to put some space in between their bodies, Prowl grasped his arm without fully processing the action.

“W-what was…t-that was, um…”

His uncertain and flustered statement seemed to spark something in the other mech. Jazz watched him, a cheshire grin splitting his features. “And ‘ere I thought yah had enough?”

Prowl’s doorwings shot straight up, but he ignored the awful feeling of them scrapping against the cold hard wall of the corridor. “Now just you wait-“

Jazz chuckled lowly. He backed away from the tactician slowly, as if opening a gaping crevasse between their beings. 

“All is fair in love and war, right baby?” With that, Jazz disappeared down the corridor. 

Prowl watched him leave, with a mix of wonder and vexation on his features.

What had just happened?

  
_I need attention, feed on my addiction_   
_I want to action, satisfaction_   
_You have to feed me words that I inquire_   
_So my discord someday takes me higher_   



	4. Seduce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Prowl shows Jazz that prude isn't a word that should be used to describe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For reference, my head canon has Smokescreen and Hound as part of special operations. Song inspiration is Amen by Halestorm.

**Seduce – “to win over, attract, or entice another”**

Usually Jazz thought of himself as rather astute, cunning even. But this particular deca-cycle, _senseless_ sounded more fitting to his audials.

Why he thought _teasing _the tactician, simply to throw him off of his game, was a good idea was beyond him. Now, every time he ran into Prowl – and he seemed to be doing that _a lot_ more since that unfortunate incident in the corridor – consisted of intoxicating tension and awkward excuses. And not even the bad kind of tension, no. It was that heady ‘let’s find the nearest room right now’ kind of tension. He wasn’t sure that this was something he even wanted to pursue. Besides, it was _slightly_ inappropriate for the second and third in command of the army to be even considering the idea of doing… _that.___

__But the tactician had such an attractive aft. And those doorwings... he couldn’t stop thinking about the mech. Especially the calm and low vibrato of his voice and the way his doorwings flared when he was provoked. He was utterly consumed by thoughts of the mech_ _

__Jazz shook his head violently. Those were the types of thoughts that had gotten him into this slag hole anyways. That and his stupid fragged up processor that thought irritating the mech was _wonderful_ idea in the first place. Now, he had to deal with the base rumor mill running at top speed; while he was guilty of feeding that particular beast every now and again, he had recently discovered that he loathed being its star subject. Apparently, the twins had witnessed his display in the corridor and now had the whole base speculating about the nature of the two commander’s relationship._ _

__Nosey fraggers. Speaking of…_ _

__He glanced up from lazily swirling his energon around in its cube, silently observing the other mechs sitting at the table with him in the rec room. Hound was animatedly describing some strange Earth creature he had seen the cycle prior, while Smokescreen appeared to have been observing him while he had been lost in thought….frag._ _

__“Yo boss, you back with us?” Smokescreen asked, a lazy smirk stretched across his face._ _

__“Yeh, I was jus’ tryin’ to come up wit’ ways for you incompetent fraggers to not get yer afts caught by the Decepticreeps-“_ _

__“Like slag. You’ve been sitting there thinking about Prowl, haven’t you?”_ _

__“Hah, very funny mech. No.”_ _

__Hound propped his helm up on his fist, watching Jazz with raised optic ridges. “You’re full of scrap, mech. We _all_ see how you look at him when you think he isn’t looking.”_ _

__Jazz downed the remainder of his cube, slamming the innocent object back down onto the table top. “Chill out guys. ‘Dis is Prowl we’re talkin’ ‘bout here. You know, stick up the aft and voted most likely to bond with the rule book, Prowl?” He snapped, glaring darkly at the other mechs for a moment; both of which had wisely shut their mouths._ _

___Ping._ Saved by the bell. A message from Prowl summoning him to his office spared the saboteur from the awkward interrogation in the making._ _

__“Now, I know fer a fact that both of yah ‘ave better things to be doing than _speculating_ about whether or not I have a thing for Captain glitch face. Yah may wanna run along, before you’re next infiltration involves wading through a Decepticon waste reservoir. That don’ sound too invigoratin’, does it?”_ _

__Both mechs watched Jazz’ back with a blank stare, as their commander rose from his seat and exited the rec room._ _

__Hound nudged Smokescreen in the arm with his elbow, a wry grin on his face. “I think you hit a nerve there, mech.”_ _

__“Apparently.”_ _

________________________________________________________________________________ _

__

__“Yah summoned yer highness- Prowl?” Jazz asked, confusion lacing his voice. The tactician wasn’t sitting at his desk like usual. In fact, the tactician didn’t even seem to be in his office, which was strange since he had just summoned him mere klicks ago-_ _

__“I like it when you come when I call.”_ _

__Jazz jumped and immediately spun around. Prowl was standing to one side of the door, just inside of his office. It was as if he had wanted to put the Polyhexian at a disadvantage._ _

__“Way to scare a mech like dat!”_ _

__Prowl stared intently at the saboteur for a long and penetrating moment. He slowly pushed himself off of the wall, approaching the stunned mech with deliberate motions. His door wings were angled high on his back and fluttering softly, the low lighting in the room accentuating the measured motions of his hips as he approached._ _

__Jazz was absolutely certain he had never seen a mech look so enticing in his life. Alluring, and intimating. As the Praxian approached, he retreated a few steps until his aft hit the desk, sending a pile of data pads hurtling to the ground with a loud _crash.__ _

__Prowl didn’t even _blink.__ _

__“Prowl? What are yah doin’?”_ _

__“Be quiet, Jazz. You’re annoying when you talk.” Prowl murmured, planting his palm in the centre of the Polyhexian’s chest, pushing him harder into the surface. Prowl leaned in closer, his smaller size allowing his heated ex-vents to warm the plating of Jazz’ neck cables. Angling his helm upward, he gave Jazz a sultry look before placing a soft kiss on his neck, never once breaking optic contact._ _

__Jazz stopped venting all together. His hands clutched the edge of the desk hard enough to leave dents, as if he were trying to restrain himself from touching. Prowl moved closer, situating himself between he saboteur’s thighs, pressing his lithe body against that of the Polyhexian’s overheated one. Slowly his hand slid up Jazz’ chest, coming to caress the back of his neck. He pulled Jazz’ face closer to his and finally, their lips met in the softest ghost of a kiss._ _

__Jazz came alive under his ministrations; his hands wound around the smaller mech’s waist and then continued further down to cup his aft. He deepened the kiss; what started out as an innocent and light thing morphed into a passionate dueling of tongues and clashing of dentae. Prowl moulded his body against the other, not one micron of space between the two, as his other hand snaked its way down Jazz’ body to caress the heated panel between his thighs._ _

__Prowl was the one to finally break the kiss, leaving the saboteur panting harshly and leaning against the desk with a questioning look on his face. He had no idea how the other mech managed to actually look _composed_ after a kiss like that; he felt like his being was on _fire.__ _

__“Prowl? Come back ‘ere-“_ _

__“That is all. You may leave now.” Prowl backed up, mirroring the saboteur’s actions from the cycle prior._ _

__Jazz felt as though the floor had just fallen out from beneath him. “Yer kiddin’.”_ _

__“Absolutely not. You have patrol with Smokescreen in a groon. You cannot be late for that.”_ _

__

__“Yah can’t leave me like dis!”_ _

__Prowl sauntered around his desk, his door wings fluttering lazily behind him, knowing fully that Jazz was tracking their motions. “I most certainly can, and I am. You have enough time to deal with your…issue before patrol. Now I have work to do. Please leave.”_ _

__Prowl expected him to go on patrol in this state. With Smokescreen, who would most likely see right through his façade. Well, slag him._ _

__Prowl sat lightly into his chair, grabbing the closest data disk. How he managed to be the perfect picture of calm equanimity, he had no idea. However, Jazz knew a dismissal when presented with one. He took a few raged in-vents to centre himself before pulling himself off of the desk to stand before the tactician._ _

__“Fine, ‘ave it yer way.” With that, he strode out of the office as Prowl had demanded. He wouldn’t give the mech the satisfaction of _begging_ for his attentions._ _

…but he was definitely going to have to deal with his _issue_ before reporting for duty.

  
_A fires gotta burn_  
_The world is gonna turn_  
_A rain has gotta fall_  
_Fate is gonna call_  
_But I just keep on breathing_  
_Long as my heart is beating_

  



	5. Adrenalize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension has to break eventually, and break it did, in the most spectacular of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here is where our adult rating comes into play! Definitely go listen to the song inspiration with this one. And guys, I totally just wrote my first sex scene...hence why it is kind of delayed…*hides face*. Song Inspiration: Adrenalize – In This Moment 
> 
> Chapter 6 will be up shortly. And chapter 7 later this evening (or morning knowing how my brain works).

**Adrenalize – “to be filled with a sudden rush of energy”**

What had started out as an innocent command meeting to review the finer details of their next campaign against the Decepticons, had descended into a battle of wills between the Second and Third in Command.

“I told yah, Prowl. I need my mechs to infiltrate the Decepticon line _first_ for this to work!”

“No, they need to be on the battle field with the rest of the army! We need every able bodied mech available to gain the upper hand here.”

“Why are yah always so stubborn, mech?”

“I am not stubborn. You’re just unable to admit when you are wrong.”

“Am not! Fraggit Prowl!”

“I am your commanding officer! You will implement my orders as I direct.”

“And what if I don’?”

“I’ll throw you in the brig and demote you-“

“Gentle mechs. Might I suggest you both take some time to yourselves and return once you both have cooled your tempers? This is not setting a good example for your subordinates.” Optimus intoned, physically stepping between the two aggravated officers.

Prowl’ doorwings shook on his back with unrepressed rage. For a moment, Optimus though he was going to have to physically remove Prowl from the room, but the mech suddenly turned and stormed away. 

Jazz let out an explosive sign, heavily leaning on the table in front of him and staring at the surface. For a long moment the mech just stared, as if weighing two choices, before righting himself.

He turned on his heel and followed Prowl out of the room.

And he most definitely did not run.

It was more of a … brisk walk.

\--------------------

The door slid shut behind them, but neither mech took heed. In fact, neither mech would have been able to tell another later how they had even managed to make it back to Jazz’s quarters in the first place. 

Jazz snarled, the low light of the room glinting off of his sharp dentae. He glared intently at the other, slowly backing Prowl across the room until his back collided sharply with the wall.

Neither registered this.

The two simply stared at each other for a long pregnant moment, as if locked in a battle of wills. Neither wanted to be the first to crack, and expose their true feelings to the other for intense scrutiny.

But as with all true battles, there can only be one winner.

Quick as lightning, Jazz wrapped dexterous fingers around the others neck, grinding him further into the wall. Not wasting a click, he leaned down and roughly captured Prowl’s lips in a bruising kiss. His other hand slid slowly down the mechs side, grasping his thigh and crudely hoisting it up to rest on his hip.

Prowl came alive as Jazz’s lips descended on him. His optics shuttered closed, his nimble fingers tracing heavy paths along the lines of the Polyhexian’s back plating. His hands stopped once they reached his shoulders and he hoisted himself up into the mech’s grip, both of his legs wrapped around his hips. Jazz in turn grabbed his thighs and without breaking the kiss spun around, depositing Prowl in his berth.

The Praxian gasped into Jazz’s mouth as his back plating met the berth padding. He arched his hips up, his panel opening with a sharp _snick._

Jazz wasted no time. He plunged two fingers into the Praxian’s depths, scissoring them in and out in a quick mockery of foreplay; neither mech was in the frame of mind to wait. Besides, Prowl was already slicked with lubricant and ready for him; obviously, their argument had served as adequate enough foreplay. Prowl whined, shaking his head back and forth and grasping at the soft berth padding below him. The saboteur propped himself up, and slowly pulled his fingers from the mechs valve, earning him a long and low keen from the other. 

Prowl watched with utter fascination as Jazz brought his glistening fingers to his mouth, before sucking the fluid off of them. 

He could have overloaded on the spot. 

Jazz observed the mech on the berth below him, who was staring right back at him with a wild glint in his optics. He leaned forward, cupping his face with his hand. 

“Prowl, do you want this?” He asked. He needing to make sure the mech was doing this out of his own desire, and not out of some twisted sense of retribution. 

“Yes.” Prowl gasped, surging up to meet Jazz’s lips once again. 

He grabbed the back of Prowl’s knee, hooking it over the crook over his elbow and splaying the mech wide before him. His panel opened with a sharp _snap_ , the sound a sharp contrast to the harsh pants of the two mechs.

Jazz bit Prowl’s lower lip hard, keeping it trapped between his dentae as he plunged his spike deep into the Praxian’s hungry valve. Prowl yelped at the sudden penetration, wrapping both of his legs tight around Jazz’s waist. He pulled out slowly before plunging back it again, breaking the kiss with a sharp gasp. 

Both mechs knew that they weren’t going to last long.

Prowl arched his back, rocking his hips in time with Jazz’s thrusts to enhance the sensation. Jazz took the opportunity to curl both hands underneath his back, tightly grasping the mech’s doorwing hinges. 

Which was ultimately Prowl’s undoing.

He overloaded with a loud yelp, shuttering his optics and throwing his helm back into the berth padding.

Jazz cursed as the mech’s valve callipers tightened around his sensitive spike. Biting down into the sensitive and exposed plating of Prowls neck, he followed him into a powerful overload.

Both mechs lay in post overload bliss panting. After a moment, Jazz rolled off of Prowl to lie next to him, as much of his overheated plating in contact with the other mechs as possible. Prowl finally rebooted his optics, gazing into those of the saboteur.

Jazz cleared his throat. “Now what?”

For a moment, Prowl simply gazed back into his optics. A slow grin spreads across his face as he rolls over, lifting a leg to straddle Jazz’s thighs. He plants his palms in the centre of his chest, leaning down to whisper in his audial.

“Now, it’s my turn.”

  
_I must confess,_  
_I’m addicted to this_  
_Shove your kiss straight through my chest_  
_I can’t deny, I’d die without this_  
_Make me like a God_  
_Music, love, and sex ___  



	6. Vindicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does one do when they find themselves in bed with the very mech that set out to upend his life in the first place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Heads up, chapter 5 was posted earlier this evening. So go back and read that before looking at this one! And chapter 7 will be posted later on or in the morning. Stay tuned! Song inspiration is Dirty Diana – Shamans Harvast

**Vindicate – “to show or prove to be right, reasonable, or justified”**

_Crack._

“…slag.”

Jazz shifted slightly under the berth covers, groaning softly. It felt as though he had only gotten maybe a groons recharge time. What precious time he got to recharge this night cycle had been interrupted by more…pleasurable endeavors. They must have succumbed to recharge after the last vigorous round of interfacing.

Not that he was complaining or anything. 

Jazz slowly cracked an optic open, and was afforded the view of his berth partner attempting to escape his quarters without being noticed. Instead of living up to his designation, Prowl seemed to have tripped over...something the saboteur had left in the middle of the floor at some point in the past few days.

A quick glance at his internal chronometer had Jazz confused. There was still a couple groons left before either himself or Prowl had to report to the bridge.

So why was the other leaving so quickly? And for that matter, why did he seem like he was trying to leave without Jazz noticing?

The saboteur quickly closed his optics, pretending to still be deep in recharge. Was Prowl embarrassed by what had transpired between them last night? Was that why he was _attempting_ to sneak out of his quarters before he awoke? Did he see this situation as a simple means to…scratch an itch?

For that matter, why did he even _care?_ Two bots could share an intense night of interfacing and not have it mean anything. It was not like he harbored any feelings for the Praxian, right?

Finally having found the door controls in the deep dark of the room, Prowl glanced slowly over his shoulder, before sliding out into the hallway.

Jazz groaned, rolling over into the still warm spot in the berth where Prowl had previously lain. Pulling the berth coverings closer to his frame, he resigned himself to recharging alone.

\--------------------

Prowl gasped, sagging against the door as it closed behind him. 

He didn’t mean to fall into recharge the night prior. He had every intention to leave Jazz’s quarters and retire to his own for the evening. He must have been downright exhausted from their…evening entertainment. Which is why he has escaped as quickly as possible, as to avoid an awkward situation between him and the saboteur when they awoke. 

However, leaving Jazz in the early groons of the morning seemed wrong to him.

He just hoped the saboteur didn’t take it too badly.

Prowl shook his head violently. What was he thinking? It was not as if they were a couple and he was not obligated to stay the night, or to be present when the saboteur woke in the morning.

With strengthened resolve, he pushed himself off of the door and crept down the hall towards his own quarters. He was careful to avoid anyone.

It would not be good for his untarnished image to be caught sneaking out of the resident playbots quarters covered in paint transfers.

\--------------------

When Jazz arrived on the bridge later that morning, he found Prowl deeply engrossed in his task of transferring data from the bridge console into his personal data pad. 

And he didn’t even acknowledge his arrival. 

Jazz was late for his shift, Prowl noted. Although, the saboteurs frame wisely bore no signs of their activities from the previous night. As predicted, his doorwings immediatly picked up the saboteur approaching him.

“Prowl.”

“Jazz.” The Praxian snapped.

Jazz stopped, taking note of the Praxian’s tense frame and cold demeanor. The bridge definitely wasn’t the place to ask Prowl why he had ghosted him just groons prior. Nor was he even sure if it was a topic he should bring up in the first place. 

But he couldn’t help himself. He had to know for certain.

Besides, it was already well established that Jazz was the master of poor life choices.

He sidled up to Prowl, as if trying to read the contents of the screen over his shoulders, and leaned close enough to the mech to communicate with him discretely.

“Ah know yah probably don’ wanna talk about this ‘here-“ 

“You would be correct in that assessment.”

“But, yah jus’ left! Yah could ‘ave stayed. Even if yah needed to leave, yah could ‘ave woke me to tell me that…”

Prowl stopped suddenly, slamming his data pad down on the console. “It was just interface, and I assure you that it is not going to happen again. I have no interest in being intimate with you.”

Jazz simply stared at the mech. A quick glance around the room revelled that Prowl’s statement had been loud enough for the whole bridge to overhear. And Optimus was giving him _the look_ from his seat in the command chair.

Now, the whole bridge crew bore witness to Prowl shutting him down with venom on his tongue.

Fantastic.

“Now, I know for a fact that your last mission report is overdue. You had better go work on that before I have you clean the wash racks for your subordination.” Prowl stated, turning back to the console as if nothing had happened. 

Jazz shut his mouth. He watched the other mech for a long moment, before leaving the Praxian to his work and retreating to his console.

Prowl sighed. Now, why did he feel like he had just crossed a line somewhere?

  
_You never make me stay_   
_So take your weight off of me_   
_I know your every move_   
_So won't you just let me be_   
_I've been here times before_   
_But I was too blind to see_   
_That you seduce every man_   
_This time you won't seduce me_   



	7. Expose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are pesky things, especially unintended ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Final two chapters will be posted this afternoon! This one is a shorter chapter, but is just as important as the other for character development. Song inspiration is Chemical Ride – Three Years Hollow. You should listen to it…it holds a special place in my heart.

**Expose – “to leave uncovered or unprotected”**

If there was one thing Prowl hated more in life than hypocrites, it was being a hypocrite _himself_.

Despite his venomous declaration that he would only grace Jazz’s berth just that one time, he still wound up there on many separate occasions after the fact. Sometimes, they ended up back in his quarters. Or in the armory, where Ironhide had _almost_ caught them. And there was that one time in Optimus’s office while they were waiting for him to arrive and debrief them…

Prowl traced his fingers lightly along his berth partners chest plating, where he lay half draped over the mechs prone and recharging frame.

At first, the sheer carnal desire had been enough. Fight, frag, deflect…the cycle was utterly _addicting_ to Prowl. But soon, the Praxian had found himself yearning for more. He found himself wanting an emotional connection; he wanted to be entirely consumed by the other mechs very being. Somewhere, the line between simply fragging and more complicated feelings had become annoyingly murky.

As much as he tried to deny it, he had developed feelings for the nuisance of a mech, who currently had his arms wrapped around the Praxian while deep in recharge. He had come to savour these moments. While he…immensely enjoyed their physical joining, the simple act of lying next to the mech, intertwined in his almost overwhelming field, while he was at his most vulnerable was every bit as pleasurable.

“Mmm…Prowl?” Or rather, had been deep in recharge. 

Prowl watched the mech fight the need to slip back into recharge, having been abruptly woken by Prowl accidently jostling his frame. He cuddled closer to his contact-warmed plating, burying his face in the mechs neck. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his voice muffled by his proximity to the other mechs plating. 

Jazz watched him through slit and sleep dazed optics, his hand lazily rubbing at the space between Prowl’s doorwings. “What are yah sorry fer, Prowler?”

Prowl studied every curve and line of the saboteurs face, avoiding the question for the moment. He was sorry for many things. He was sorry for teasing and taunting the mech and for burdening their comfortable arrangement with these pesky feelings. Ultimately, he was sorry for snapping at the mech on the bridge deca-cycles earlier. The mech had every right to question his leaving his berth, but Prowl had been too embarrassed at the time to think logically about the matter and had simply reacted. Finally, his eyes met Jazz’s dimly lit ones, and he realized that he would be unable to voice these admissions to him. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry for waking you. Go back to recharge.”

Jazz murmured something unintelligible, before rolling onto his side away from Prowl and immediately succumbing to recharge once again.

Prowl sighed softy, curling up against the mechs back. For a long while, he listened to the sound of the mechs venting, until he was absolutely certain he was submerged back into the depths of recharge, his dampened field wrapped tightly around his own. He needed to say something, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to say it to Jazz himself.

“I’m sorry for speaking harshly too you before, Jazz. But, somewhere along the line I think I went and fell in love with you.”

He shuttered his optics, venting deeply and the admission. He knew that there could never be anything more between them. 

But in the dark hours of the night cycle, curled up next to the mech that had utterly toppled his perfectly consistent world, he could pretend, right?

  
_Give in to me and tell me I'm right_   
_I want to be your chemical ride_   
_And how I love the things you say to me _  
 _Wake up and go live your life_  
 _I'll be the best on this ride___   



	8. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a near death experience to expose deeper rooted feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! :D

**Surrender – “to cease resistance to an enemy or opponent and submit to their authority”**

_Pain_.

His whole frame ached. 

He was greeted by blackness.

He struggled, fighting the blackness that had taken over him, gasping as he finally broke through the barrier and fought his way back into consciousness.

“Shh shh. Jazz, calm down. You’re safe back on base.”

Ratchet. The mechs calming hands pushed his struggling frame back down onto the soft surface of the diagnostic berth.

That could only mean one thing.

He had royally fragged up his last infiltration. Either the information obtained on the last reconnaissance mission was grossly incorrect, or the Decepticons had somehow caught wind that their favourite saboteur was paying them a visit. 

He had been caught and brutally interrogated for days. Really, nothing that Jazz hadn’t endured before. But that didn’t mean that the whole experience didn’t suck nasty slag. 

Which brought him back to the present. He was back on the Autobot’s base, but he was not sure how he had come to be. He definitely didn’t escape by his own means, which only left one other option.

Command had decided to mount a rescue mission, which was confusing in itself. It was a well-established fact that unless a captured black ops mech had vital information that was time sensitive or ultimately put the entire Autobot faction in immediate danger, that there was to be no rescue mission.

Hence, why all special operations personnel had kill switches. It wasn’t often black ops mechs got caught and it was even rarer for Jazz himself end up in such a precarious situation. But when they did, and as they all carried information that would brutally cripple the cause, the kill switch was thrown. Realistically, if they hadn’t heard from Jazz for a specified duration of time, Mirage should have thrown his kill switch.

An unfortunate, but absolutely necessary loss. All new recruits were made aware of the fact that their life spans sharply decreased as soon as they joined special operations. 

Which brought him back to why he appeared to be in the medical bay. Or rather, why he was apparently even still _alive_. 

“You with me, Jazz?”

Jazz jerked sharply, staring at Ratchet for a moment as he convinced himself that he wasn’t simply Soundwave playing mind games with him.

“Uh, yah. I think so…” He croaked. His vocalizer was full of static from disuse, or maybe screaming. He wasn’t entirely sure.

“You were captured by the Decepticons and held for a deca-cycle. Extensive injuries were inflicted, but nothing I can’t fix. But you will be laid up for a while…and you will not argue with me on that one.” Wisely, Ratchet avoided the more specific details of the injuries the black ops mech sustained. Unfortunately, Jazz was aware of every single injury. He remembered obtaining each one, and would have to work through the experience at a later time. However right now, there was a more important question to address.

“Why am I not dead, mech?”

Ratchet gave him a long look, fully understanding the true meaning behind the question.

“You mean why didn’t Mirage throw your switch? Not that I approve of that barbaric process in the slightest, but he was going to, until **he** overruled him.” Ratchet murmured, gesturing to Prowl’s prone form, slumped over uncomfortably in a chair next to Jazz’s berth. “And he hasn’t left your side since you were rescued, by the way.”

Jazz blinked a few times, fully processing the extent of Ratchet’s admission. “Yah mean to say, he mounted a rescue mission, when it is specifically against the regulations?”

And a better question, why had the mech stayed by his side the entire time? 

Ratchet remained silent, observing the readings on the diagnostic output of the berth, before giving Jazz a pointed look. “He argued that you were too valuable an asset to the Autobot cause, being the head of special ops and Third in Command. He emphasized that in his opinion that we could not risk the information you could have disclosed to the Decepticons, nor could we risk the blow the faction would take due to your loss.”

The saboteur gazed at the deeply recharging mech for a while, his mussing interrupted by the medic.

“But we all saw through _that_ façade. The mech is head over heels for you, and wouldn’t even consider your loss as a possibility.”

Jazz blanched, “Are yah crazy Ratch’? Of course ‘e isn’! This is Prowl we’re talkin’ ‘bout ‘ere!”

The medic chuckled, laying a hand on Jazz’s shoulder plating and fixing him with a knowing look. “You two have been fraggin’ like enthusiastic turbo foxes for orns. And unfortunately, everyone knows that it’s more than just fraggin’, except you two apparently.”

Jazz remained silent for a moment, simply processing the information Ratchet had just given him. 

“So, yer sayin’ that Prowler ‘ere mounted a rescue mission, against regulations I might add, because he has feelings for me?!”

He conveniently avoided admitting that there was a possibility that those feelings were returned.

Jazz’s spark fluttered in his casing at the realization. Over their time spent together, the Polyhexian had become rather…attached to the other. However, he hadn’t tried to further their relationship, thinking that there was no chance that Prowl would return his feelings. Apparently, the mech had reacted to his capture with blind instinct, which he would not have done for any other bot. 

“It’s kind of romantic actually. Stupid as all slag, but sickly _adorable_.”

“Shut up.” 

Ratchet chuckled, reaching up to adjust the drip hooked up to the saboteurs arm. “I’m gonna give you a mild sedative, so that you can get some more much needed recharge. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Ratchet turned to walk away, before stopping and glancing over his shoulder at the drowsy mech.

“And I’m sure he will be too. And don’t thing for a second that you have me fooled. I see the way you look at him too. You should talk to him, before it’s too late.”

Jazz curled up into the comforting warmth of the berth, gazing at the slumbering Praxian by his berth side. Did Prowl really harbour authentic feelings towards him?

Because Jazz coveted the exact same feelings for him, and had since the very first time.

The last thing he registered before succumbing to drug-induced recharge was the peacefully recharging face of the most important mech in the world to him.

  
_I see your face before my eyes_   
_I'm falling into darkness_   
_Why must I fight to stay alive_   
_Heroes falling_   
_Wake me can't you hear me calling_   
_Out of darkness they come crawling_   



	9. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, one must embrace their feelings and simply be swept up in the thrill of the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here’s the end! Just a short conclusion to this story. I never thought this story would take off like this. I have to say, this story is much more organic than originally intended, but the muse kept flowing so I went with it! Since I’m actually an artist, and haven’t written fiction ever in my life. Thanks for embarking on this crazy ride with yours truly. Now, time to read some of the other awesome stories written for this challenge!

**Embrace – “the act of accepting or supporting something willingly or enthusiastically”**

Often, late at night when most of the base was deep in recharge in the comforts of their berths, Prowl left the safety of the compounds. For him, simple solitude was sought in the blackness of night, with only subtle starlight glinting off of his plating.

Prowl didn’t particularly enjoy the planet the humans called Earth. The seasons were too wild in their fluctuations, the humans we’re too illogical in their actions, and he longed for his home planet of Cybertron with his entire spark.

However, even he had to admit, the view of the stars afforded from this planet was astonishing. 

His doorwings perks up on his back suddenly, sensing the change in the air currents identifying someone approaching.

Jazz slid in behind him, winding his arms around his waist in a perfect embrace. He rested his head on Prowl’s shoulder, following his gaze to the sky as Prowl leaned back into his body. No words were needed, as this little flawless moment was enough for both. 

Orns ago, Prowl would have venomously denied any need for or attraction to the chaotic mech. Now, he was the center of his world. A part of his very being. His beacon of hope in his muddled life.

He was his reason for existing in this desolate war time existence. 

Prowl couldn’t tell you exactly when the change in their relationship had occurred, or why it had. But he could tell you for certain that we wouldn’t trade it for anything. . He would sacrifice himself before any harm came to Jazz; that we swore with his entire being.

Suddenly, Jazz pulled back, putting space between their bodies. His field was utterly chaotic, flickering against Prowl’s own with unbridled excitement.

“Prowl, look at me.”

Prowl watched the midnight sky for a moment longer, before slowly turning to face the other. Jazz had a large, candid grin playing at his lips, his hand outstretched. Jazz looked dazzling, with the deep expanse of the star littered midnight sky as his backdrop. Prowl made sure to commit that image to memory.

“Take my hand.”

Prowl looked at his hand, before giving the mech a questioning look. “Why?”

“Dance with me.”

A small grin threatened the corner of Prowl’s lips. “But I don’t know how to dance, Jazz. And there’s no music!”

“Just trust me.” Jazz whispered.

Prowl watched the saboteur, who was watching in turn watching. Jazz’s smile never faltered, while he observed the uncertain mech in front of him. Once upon a time, if Jazz had asked him to trust him, the Prowl would have run in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. Now, Jazz had become such a staple in his life, and he didn’t know what he would do without him and his charming smile, the slight possessiveness, and even the annoying nuances. There was no question in his mind on whether or not he trusted him.

He trusted the mech with his very spark.

Prowl returned the bright smile, and accepted Jazz’s hand.

Jazz pulled him close to his body and together, with only the thousands of twinkling stars and the blackness of the night to bare witness, the mechs sways to the tune of their own music.

  
_I’m burning up_  
_I’m filling up, see_  
_Forever plagued with this fire inside me_  
_Deliver all, to live or die blindly_  
_It’s empty it’s defining the nothing_  
_Interfering with the call of fate is crawling out of you and now_  
_Finding comfort in the smallest spaces have sold out_  
_I know I said_  
_I hope I don’t upset the light you defend_  
_But this time it’s different_  



End file.
